That Punk
by DomieG
Summary: Demi and Punk have been best friends since high school. Demi has also had feelings for Punk since then too. She has to deal with his girlfriends and other shanagans until she can get to where she wants to be. His herat.
1. Chapter 1

Name: Demi Miranda Simmons

Looks: African American/Puerto Rican Mix, dark brown hair, caramel skin, brown eyes, about 5'5.

Background: Came from Baltimore, MD, moved to Chicago to her grandmother's during her high school years because she was caught up in the wrong crowd doing drugs.

A/N: The beginning of the story it tends to start out as her in the past to her in the present, then eventually the story starts as her in the present and may make references to the past. If there's any confusion, I'll try and clarify.

'Ugh!' I think to myself. 'Why did grandma send me to public school in mom's old catholic outfit?'

"Well look at that, fresh meat." A guy said, who I'm guessing is a senior, says undressing me with his eyes. "Where are you from, sweets? Catholic school?"

"No, I'm from Baltimore." I hiss.

The boy cocks an eyebrow, "Really now?"

For the first time, I get a good look at this boy. Brown hair, curled at the ends, green eyes, and pink skin. He's a little taller than them boys back home and a lot dumber. I can take this fool.

"Yea, I am." I say pulling my bag up on one shoulder with my face smug.

"Well maybe I show you how we in Chi-town get down." The boy says giving me a smirk.

"And maybe I'll show you how we do in Bal-da-more." I say in my accent.

The boy chuckles and pulls out a pen. "Well here you go. Call and ask for Dylan."

Dylan scribbles his number on my hand and I take his pen and write down the number to the armory where my grandmother works.

"Thanks…wait. I didn't quite catch your name." Dylan asks thinking he's being a slick talker.

"Miranda," I say winking and walking to my first class.

I had always despised my 1st name. It reminded me of my older sister, who was the epitome of perfection at home. Her name was Demitria Alexa Simmons. So yea, I dabbled in drugs to be different, but I'd never thought my life would be this different.

Thanks to my grandmother, Phil, and the essence of Chicago, I never would've thought I would be walking hand-in-hand with a man with "X's" on his hands.


	2. Chapter 2

I was a bright child, but they wouldn't push me up 3 grades or I wouldn't have the credits to graduate. So 10th grade was the best they could do.

After I gave Dylan the wrong number, he never talked to me, but he did talk about me. I had the reputation of a whore. The boys saw me as an easy fuck, even though I was a virgin. The girls thought I wanted their boyfriends, but I had reason to want them. So now every day at lunch, I sat alone, in my dark clothing and heavy make-up.

Grandma despised the make-up, but thought it was just a phase. That was until I started to paint my nails a deep purple almost black and she wasn't tolerating that.

"You bet' not be on that stuff again, Demi!" She'd yell.

"Why don't you call me Miranda?" I'd retort.

"Because that's not your God given name!" She'd spat and hit me.

I never knew what God wanted out of me. To be free? Or under Grandma's iron fist? For a while I stayed away from church to find myself.

Then one day while sitting in my navy blue dress, on the church steps, a boy stopped in front of me. He looked like he goes to my school.

"Hey," He started. "Shouldn't you be inside?"

"Yea, but I'm trying to find myself after being addicted to crack." I look up at the raven haired boy. He had hazel eyes and was a bit taller than me. His smirk took me aback as he held out his hand.

"I think I can help you with that." He says pulling me up. "I'm Phil by the way."

"I'm Mir—," I stopped myself knowing I shouldn't lie to this kid. "I'm Demi."

I'm running around backstage with the heaviest title belt ever, just because I wanted to play a joke on an old friend.

"Demi, this isn't funny!" He yells from around the corner. I try to hide by some crates, but I knock one over.

"Ah hell!" I left the belt under a crate and ran. I can still hear footsteps so I push myself harder to get away, yet the footsteps got closer and harder. "Damn it, Phil! Go get…ready for…your match!" I back at him.

"Not until…you pay!" He puffed back.

This boy (well technically man) was 31 and running after me. After I got to the end of the corridor, I turned the next corner and lied down on the hard concrete. Phil had just turned the corner to see me on the floor huffing and puffing. I look up to see he has his title on his shoulder.

"Tired…huh?" He says with his oh-so-loveable smirk.

"Yea, well so are you!" I say all in one breath.

Phil walks closer to me and bends over. "Have I complemented your cleavage lately?" He asked, smiling goofily.

I cross my arms. "Yea and that's why I stole your title in the first place!" Punk chuckled a bit. "And I don't think Amy would want to hear about you drooling over my boobs."

Amy or Lita was Phil's girl at the moment and they care for each other so much, but I see something holding them back in the near future, but of course I wasn't telling him that.

"Oh hush, Demi." He says sticking his hand out. "C'mon before you get hemorrhoids." He joked.

I laugh, take his hand, and was reminded of the first time we met.


End file.
